If I'm not Perfect
by Ana01
Summary: An AU story. Anakin is fifteen, and is put in the foster care system. How will Anakin react to entering a loving home after exiting an unloving one?
1. Chapter 1

"Anakin, I'd like you to meet your new foster parents, Cliegg and Shmi,"

The man stepped aside to reveal a couple, both in about their forties. They both wore great big smiles, and stood arm in arm. Beside them was a young man, about the age of 20. He wore a tentative smile. Anakin couldn't help noticing that he looked like a younger version of Cliegg. The older woman, Shmi he thought her name was, stepped forward and held out her hand.

"Hello, Anakin. My name is Shmi Lars. This is my husband, Cliegg Lars, and our son, Owen Lars." Both Owen and Cliegg nodded at him. "We're delighted to meet you." Shmi kept her hand out, ridiculously friendly smile still etched on her face.

Anakin just stared at the ground until the hand disappeared. He vaguely heard his social worker, Henry, tell the pair quietly,

"Anakin has gone through quite a lot recently. His parents were both arrested for slave trafficking and drug offenses a week ago. This is his first foster home. We're hoping you guys can make him come about of his shell a bit. He hasn't said a word to anyone since we took him out of the house." Henry's voice lowered to a whisper.  
"We suspect that he was beaten by his parents, judging by the scars and bruises on his body."

Anakin waited for the couple to respond. Instead, he heard nothing. At first. Then, all of a sudden, he was wrenched into a restraining hold, squished up against someone's chest. He couldn't move, and he felt his throat constrict. Panicking, thinking they were trying to smother him, he struggled and pushed the figure onto the floor. He heard a small shriek as Shmi fell to the ground hard.

"What the _hell_ were you doing?!" Anakin backed up, wary, as Shmi was helped up by Owen and Cliegg. Cliegg was giving him a hard glare – the type any normal teenager would flinch away from. Anakin just returned the glare and waited to hear words of criticism and anger. Instead, Shmi put a hand on her husband's arm and smiled a concerned smile at him.

"I was just hugging you sweetie. It's a –" Anakin cut across her roughly.

" _Don't_ call me sweetie! You don't know me! Stop touching me and leave me the kriff alone!"

Shmi slowly walked back up to him, smiling and reached her arms out to him.

 _Are you kriffing kidding me? Do I need to hit this stupid woman?!_

Anakin again pushed her away roughly, this time only enough to send her away, and bolted out the door of the foster centre, yelling abuse and swearing at anyone who got in his way.

 _What is wrong with that family?_ Anakin didn't run because he didn't want to be there. He ran because he was scared. Terrified actually. No-one had ever tried to do that… crushing body on body contact. A hug? What a horrible word for a horrible deed. Trying to smother him like that.

Shrugging off his thoughts, Anakin ran through the city centre, nearly being hit by a silver Porsche in his haste. He ran down a side street, and sat down, panting in fear.

 _They… tried to kill me. They tried to kill me. They tried to kill me._

- **  
**Two hours later, Anakin was sitting – well, okay, maybe not sitting. More like being held in place – in the back seat area of the Lars' rusty Holden Ute. On either side, sat Owen and Cliegg, both holding one arm in place.

After Anakin had recovered his breath and was a little more composed, he had begun to run to his friend, Kit's, place. Kit always let him hide there when he was running from his Dad's alcoholic episodes. However, when he arrived, he saw the strangest sight he had ever seen. A rusty, blue Holden ute sat in the driveway. On the tray of the ute held by a chain was an American Rottweiler, sitting passively watching his surroundings. Sitting on the roof of the ute was Owen Lars, and talking to Kit and his mum were Shmi and Cliegg. Dumbfounded, Anakin froze in place. Suddenly, Kit noticed Anakin.

"Hey, Anakin!" Everyone turned to look at him. Cliegg and Shmi waved as if nothing was wrong in the world, and Owen grinned somewhat cheekily at him.

"Come here, Anakin, you must be thirsty after all that running!" Shmi waved him over, that same stupid friendly grin in place.

Anakin had never been in this situation before. Here he was, trying to escape from this murderous family of clowns, and there they were having a friendly conversation with _his_ friend and his family! Anakin tensed and slowly began to back out of the drive-way. Kit, completely clueless to Anakin's tenseness, yelled,

"Anakin, come meet my aunt and uncle, Aunty Shmi and Uncle Cliegg. And there's my cousin, Owen!"

Anakin paled significantly, if one could pale any whiter than what Anakin already was, and stumbled backwards faster, willing himself out of the driveway and on a different planet.

Owen noticed Anakin's movements and called out,

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Anakin. We're not going to hurt you or anything, just come say hey to Kit. It's obvious you guys know each other."

Anakin shook his head mutely, too shocked to reply. Shmi stepped towards him, hands out, pleading.

"Anakin, we'll stay here until you're comfortable to leave with us. You won't even have to talk to us. You and Kit can have some time together."

This was too much. His best friend… _family_ with the crazy people who tried to kill him? Anakin's head was spinning out of control. He felt himself stumble backwards, felt his feet leave the ground and fall backwards. He heard someone yell,

"Anakin!" He heard rather than saw people running over to him as his head hit the hard asphalt ground.

-

Anakin woke up in Kit's room. He knew it was Kit's room because of the various model aeroplanes hanging off the ceiling. Blankets were covering his face, and he could hear voices in the room, talking about him.

"…worried about him. Henry told us that he has severe social anxiety." That was Shmi's voice. She had this soft voice, kind of like the voice he heard in his dreams when he was dreaming of a loving family. Next he heard the deep, gravelly voice of Cliegg.

"That's not why he fainted, Shmi. Did you see the way he reacted when you hugged him? It was like he thought you were going to hurt him."

 _Well, what else was she going to do?_ Anakin thought sulkily. His head hurt. There was a dreadful pain in his temples, and he felt like if there was any more pressure in his head his brain would explode.

"I know, Cliegg. He acted as if he'd never been hugged before." Anakin heard them move closer to him, and decided to feign unconsciousness. He felt rather than saw them looking down at him.

"We should take him home, Shmi. If earlier is any indication of his intentions of staying with us, we should move him as fast as we can away from here."

Anakin was startled into opening his eyes when he was lifted off the bed like a baby. His eyes widened in shock and he stared up, terrified at the older man looking down at him. He felt Cliegg's grip around him tighten, and he faintly heard Shmi say,

"It's okay, Anakin. You're safe… You're safe…" Anakin heard no more as he wrenched himself out of Cliegg's arms and onto the floor, grunting in pain as his throbbing head hit the tiled floor. He instantly pushed himself up and found the exit of the room blocked by Cliegg and Owen.

 _Where the kriff did Owen come from?_ Anakin wondered in his hazy state. He backed away from them, and stumbled into the dresser behind him. Shmi broke stepped through the two men blocking the door and offered her hand to Anakin.

"Anakin, if you take my hand now, Owen and Cliegg won't have to force you to the ute. If you don't, they _will_ force you into the ute and someone will most likely get hurt."

Anakin looked from Shmi to the door. Shmi to the door, weighing up his chances. Suddenly he decided. Shmi noticed his decision, and discreetly moved to the right, to avoid being bowled down. Anakin made a break for the door, pulling out from behind his back a small metal lamp he had grabbed when he hit the dresser. He smashed the lamp into Owen's face and slammed his body into Cliegg's in a desperate act for freedom. To his dismay, Cliegg wrapped two arms around Anakin's waist, crushing him up against him. Owen recovered with surprising ease, and forcefully pried the lamp from Anakin's fingers. They then proceeded to half-carry, half-drag Anakin down the stairs and out the door, all the while Anakin was kicking and screaming. He vaguely heard Kit yell,

"Anakin! Stop! They're trying to help you!" as he was dragged out the back door.

"I hate you! I hate you! I'm going to kill you!" He screamed, tears streaking down his face. Anakin knew what was next: They were going to beat him. Beat him to teach him a lesson. Anakin struggled as hard as he could, tears staining his cheeks, as he was pushed into the back of the ute.

Owen climbed in next to him and held him tightly in a restraining hold while Cliegg walked around the other side and climbed in.

Shmi walked out of the house, waving and smiling to Kit's parents as if there wasn't a hysterical fifteen year old in her vehicle, and climbed into the driver's seat. ****


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Thank you so much to those who reviewed! It is so rewarding to see people enjoying my story!**

"And here is the bathroom… in it you'll find a shower, spa bath - which can only be used in the most rarest of circumstances, mind you - shampoo, conditioner and basically any basic hair products like gel or wax. There is a drawer for each person. Yours is the bottom one. It's empty at the moment, but we'll fill it soon."

Anakin glanced wide-eyed around the room. He'd never seen such a big bathroom! And it was so clean! The floors sparkled. He briefly compared what was before him with his bathroom at his parents house.

There had been a dingy, mouldy shower in one corner, a cockroach infestation in another corner, and a damaged, un-flushable toilet behind the door. He hadn't gone in there much. If he needed a number 1, he just walked over to the pile of dirt and weeds his parents called a garden, and if he needed a number 2, he would either find a public restroom, or go to a friend's place. He was always at friend's places..

"Who's bathroom is it?" His voice barely above a whisper. He could never imagine having use of such a nice room.

Owen shot him an incredulous look. "Well, considering you have your own drawer and I just showed you where the bathroom _was_ , I'm pretty sure it's everyone's to use. Unless, of course you would rather a bucket?" Owen's eyes twinkled with amusement. He didn't realise how close his joke had come to home. Anakin quickly looked away and shook his head, staring at the ground.

Owen seemed to realise he had hurt Anakin and his laughter quickly died away.

"Okay, let me show you your room." Anakin looked up quickly. Hold up. His own room? He'd never had a room to himself before. Mum and Dad always used to rent what-could-be-his-room out for people wanting to shoot drugs or have sex with some pretty young lady they met in a pub and drugged. Sometimes they even used to store young girls in there before they were sold off to rich, old perverts.  
"Welcome to your bedroom," Owen dramatically stood to the side of the door with both arms gesturing towards the entrance, ushering Anakin in.

Anakin stopped in the doorway. He was too busy staring at all the space that was now _his._ He didn't hear Shmi come up the stairs and quietly tell Owen she'd take over the tour. He jumped when she spoke.

" I know it's not much, and it's a bit bare, but we thought that maybe you'd like to design your room. I'll take you out shopping tonight – the shops are open late tonight. What do you think?" She beamed at him. Anakin looked down at the floor and shrugged.

The ( _massive_ , Anakin thought) room had light grey walls – not too grey… seemingly just the right shade to make him feel safe and… _relaxed? I can't remember the last time I felt relaxed._ In the middle of the room, against the wall was a luxury queen-size bed, complete with… _No sheets? No blankets or pillows?_ Anakin had never seen such a nice bed. He heard Shmi come to stand behind him.

"I didn't want to make the bed with a blanket you didn't like, so I've left that, as well as curtains, pictures and clothes. I took a look over your clothes and you barely have a change of clothes for a week!"

Anakin gave a small smile as he glanced around the room. _It's mine. It's all mine._

-

The novelty of a new room had worn off 4 hours later, Anakin decided as he shuffled tiredly down the aisles in the giant department store. They had filled nearly three trollies with stuff for Anakin's room. Owen and Cliegg seemed to share his fatigue. They each pushed a full trolley slowly, following the never-tiring Shmi as she pulled item after item off the shelf and basically _forced_ Anakin to want it.

Anakin had had no idea what he wanted when they got to the department store three hours earlier, so Shmi had asked an employee to 'give them a tour' of the store, so that Anakin could get an idea of what he had to choose from. Half an hour later, Anakin had decided that his favourite mix of colours were black, grey and white. As soon as he had reluctantly mouthed those word, Shmi had sprung into action, and seemingly every poster, bedspread, quilt, curtain and accessory that was either black, grey or white was thrown into a trolley. _Or two. Or three,_ Anakin thought ruefully.

Finally, Shmi decided that they had enough accessories, and turned to the three tired men.

"Alright, I think we're done. We'll move everything to the car and…" Cliegg, Owen and Anakin all let out a huge sigh of relief and began to walk towards the checkouts.

"…move onto some clothing stores." Shmi finished, a cheeky smile on her face. The three men chorused their disgust as their energetic strides faltered.

-

That night, as Anakin lay on _his_ soft mattress, arms and legs splayed widely across the surface, he couldn't help but cry. Why… how…what had he done to deserve such a good family? Why did they care so much?

He sat up, and looked around the room, eyeing every accessory they had bought for him that day. He eyed the bags and bags of clothes that were sitting in front of his walk-in-wardrobe. He had been calculating in his head how much they had spent, and he lost count at 2 grand. No-one had ever cared for him this much before. Well, that wasn't hard, but still. It meant so much to him.

Anakin turned quickly to his left, and gave a small yelp of pain as his right shoulder cried out. He held it until it stopped throbbing so much.

His shoulder always hurt. It had always hurt after his dad had thrown him against the TV cabinet that one time. It had swollen to almost double, and even after the swelling went down, he couldn't use his shoulder properly, and it hurt like hell whenever he tried to move it too fast.  
He shrugged off the pain and rolled onto his good side to sleep, vaguely noticing that he could use a clock. He really wanted to know what the time was.

It mustn't have been too late because about five minutes later, the door cracked open to reveal Shmi, still fully dressed. In her arms, Anakin saw more clothes. They were either blue, white or grey, and they looked extremely uncomfortable.

Anakin tensed. He knew those clothes, and he knew where they came from. He quickly rolled onto his bad shoulder, biting his tongue to stop himself hissing in pain.

Shmi turned on the light and whispered his name. When he didn't respond, she came over and gently shook his good shoulder. Unfortunately, this made his right shoulder scream in pain. He cried out, jerking away from Shmi and rolling onto his back.

Shmi flinched, and moved her hand away. She looked at him with concern. Anakin cursed under his breath. Now she was going to make him go to a doctor. But Shmi had misinterpreted his cry, and thought that he was scared.

Shmi gently placed the clothing in the black computer desk across the room without a word, gave him a small smile and walked out of the room.

Puzzled, Anakin stared at the ceiling until sleep overtook him.

-

The next morning, Anakin awoke to the sound of an alarm clock. _An alarm clock? When did I pick_ _ **that**_ _out?_

He groggily lifted his head off his pillow and fumbled around, groping for the alarm that he _knew_ was somewhere around there. Finally, he switched it off, and tumbled off his bed onto the floor, with a hard _THUD._ Groaning in pain, and holding his shoulder, he sat up and leaned against the bed.

Sighing, Anakin decided he wanted a shower. He hadn't had one in a week or so, and was beginning to smell just a little. He crawled over to the bags of clothes and dug through them until he found some comfortable looking ones. He pulled open his 'linen' cupboard (as Shmi had called it) and found a towel.

He happened to glance down at the edge and was startled to see his name had been embroidered into the towel. He quickly searched the other towels and found that they all held his name in a red thread. He fingered the fabric, running his hand over the name. He couldn't believe that in just one day, he went from being a nobody – a drug deal and smuggler's son – to the foster child of a seemingly rich and loving family.

After neatly re-arranging the towels, Anakin headed down the hall to the bathroom. He wasn't sure whether he was meant to ask, and stood outside the doorway awkwardly until Owen came down the hall, fumbling with a little bit of wire. Anakin noted ruefully that Owen's face was starting to sport a pretty large bruise from yesterday's beating.

Anakin was still pretty impressed about Owen being able to just shrug off the hit yesterday to dis-arm him, and he decided to ask him.

"Hey.. Owen?" Owen looked up in surprise, noticing Anakin for the first time.

"Yeah?" He sounded a bit distracted.

"Um… I was kind of wondering… yesterday, when I hit you… how were you able to… I don't know, stay awake?"

Owen stopped fiddling with the wire and put it in his pocket carefully.

"That's… kind of a long story." For the first time since Anakin met Owen, he seemed anxious. Anakin avoided eye contact and nodded his head in understanding.

"It's okay. You don't need to tell me. I was just wondering." Anakin turned to walk into the bathroom.

"No, wait. It's okay. I'm not really Shmi and Cliegg's son… They adopted me eight years ago, when I was 12." Anakin's eyes grew wide with surprise.

"But I thought?..." Anakin stopped, realising that he didn't know what he thought.

"Before that, I lived in a home with some pretty crappy excuses for foster parents. For five years, they beat me, mostly around my face. You can't really notice because of some amazing treatments that Cliegg and Shmi paid for, but there's enough scar tissue on my face for me not to feel things entirely. See?" Owen flicked the bruise on his face. "I can't feel this."

Anakin suddenly saw that Owen had a lot in common with him. Owen had obviously suffered much worse. Anakin suddenly felt weak whining about his shoulder. He could live with a sore shoulder if Owen had lived with beatings he now wore as scars.

Anakin walked into the bathroom, and had his shower, his thoughts swirling around him in an out-of-control spiral.

 **I am so sorry to those I told I was introducing Obi-Wan this chapter! I promise he'll come in next chapter. I just wanted to introduce Anakin completely first, as well as get some insite into Owen!**  
 **PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE READING THEM AND THEY ENCOURAGE ME SO MUCH!**


	3. Chapter 3

**HI! I was only supposed to release a new chapter every week, but I'm getting a little obsessive with the story! I would love some more reviews! Thanks so much for all your support, guys (and girls ;)) Things are going to start picking up fro here on out! Enjoy :)**

Towelling himself off and getting dressed, Anakin thought back for the hundred-and-fiftieth time to the conversation he had had with Owen.

 _Not… their son? How…He's so much like them?_

Carefully, Anakin lifted his arms up to put on the light blue t-shirt. His shoulder twinged painfully as he unintentionally twisted, trying to get his right arm into the sleeve. He hissed in pain, and quickly put on some dark blue jeans, before walking out of the bathroom.

Anakin was impressed with himself as he found his way to the kitchen first-try. It was a _big_ house. Smelling something delicious, Anakin followed the scent to the nearby dining room, and nearly passed out with happiness when he saw the table _loaded_ with various foods – scrambled eggs, pancakes, waffles, bacon, toast… There was even an array of drinks and juices.

"Am I in heaven?" Anakin wondered out loud to himself as he shuffled trance-like towards the table.

"Unfortunately no, but doesn't it smell bloody good?!" Cliegg clapped him cheerfully on his shoulder (his _good_ shoulder, Anakin was relieved to know) as he quickly made his way over to the head of the table. "We usually don't do this, but Shmi likes to make people feel welcome. And, as a growing young man like you should know, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Cliegg winked somewhat… _seductively?..._ at him.

"Eww, Dad, that's weird. Why is mum trying to get to mine and Anakin's hearts? That's pedophilia." Owen remarked casually as he breezed past Anakin and took his seat to the left of Cliegg.

Cliegg motioned to Anakin to join them at the table as Shmi gracefully floated in, carrying _another_ tray of food.

Anakin took his place next to Owen, and waited to be told he could eat. Nobody moved until Shmi sat down and took a giant bite out of a piece of toast. Instantly, Owen and Cliegg pounced on the food, loading their plates with enough food to feed an army. Or two.

Anakin merely eyed the food, waiting to be told he was allowed to eat. Shmi glanced up at him, concernedly.

"You're allowed to eat, Anakin." Anakin glanced up at her briefly, before taking one waffle from the pile and putting it on his plate. He gingerly coated it with cream and maple syrup before noticing that the Lars' were all staring at him.

Shmi looked upset. Not upset with _him_ … just… sad? Cliegg looked miffed, as if he couldn't understand what was happening. Owen glanced once more at Anakin's plate before deciding to do something about it.

He reached across the table to grab the full plate of waffles, then dumped _all_ of them onto Anakin's plate, finishing off by dousing them in enough syrup and cream to drown someone.

"That's better!" Owen announced happily as he poured himself and Anakin a glass of orange juice.

Cliegg and Shmi went back to their breakfasts, content that Anakin had enough food. Anakin cocked his head to the side and counted silently how many waffles there were. 12. _12? How on earth am I supposed to eat 12 waffles?!_

Glancing up with a horrified expression, Anakin caught Shmi's eye, and was relieved to hear her say,

"You don't have to eat them all. Just eat enough for you to feel full, and we won't push you." She smiled her both weird and comforting smile at him, and he felt a bit more relaxed. He then ravenously dug into the stack, devouring all the waffles so fast, his actions made Owen emit a high-pitched squawk just watching him.

-

After breakfast was cleaned up, Shmi pulled Anakin into the living room and sat him down on one of the plush soft armchairs that adorned the room. Anakin wanted to relax, but the serious, concerned look on Shmi's face made him tense, and sit stiffly upright, waiting for her to speak.

"Anakin, after observing your reactions to touch and… a few things over the last 24 hours, Cliegg and I have come to the agreement that you should be evaluated by professionals."

Anakin sat up abruptly, tensing instantly.

"What do you mean?"

Shmi took a deep breath before continuing,

"Well… we checked your medical records, and you haven't had a check-up, or a hospital visit since you were three… We've been a bit worried for you, especially concerning your mental health an – "

Anakin cut across her, his fear obvious in his voice.

"No! You can't take me there! I won't go!" Shmi flinched at the unnecessary force put behind the words, and made a placating gesture with her arms out in front of her.

"It's alright, it's alright… we'll be there with you. It's just to make sure that you're healthy."

Anakin felt his chest begin to tighten and his throat close over. _No. Doctors…_ His parents had taken him to 'doctors' whenever he was what they deemed 'naughty'. Normally, it was when he hadn't done something they had asked of him correctly. The 'doctor' as they had called him, was an old man, covered with scars from a war Anakin had never heard of. He was known in his regiment as 'the torturer'. He would 'teach him a lesson' in return for 'credit' at his parent's brothel. The man was only referred to as 'The Doctor', and ever since he was three, was the only doctor Anakin knew.

The things the doctor did to him were horrific… physical, mental, emotional… and sometimes even sexual abuse were enough to make Anakin never want to see anyone with the title 'Doctor'.  
With horrific flashbacks hitting him like waves slapping a coast, Anakin turned and ran out of the room, his throat closing over completely as panic overtook him. He stumbled through the hallways, trying desperately to drag air through to his lungs. He couldn't think straight; where was he? He looked around desperately, trying to see something familiar that would lead him back to the relative safety of his room.

Dizzy and disoriented, Anakin rounded a corner and smashed into Owen. Anakin hadn't taken a breath for about a minute, and his brain was screaming at him. He could barely hear Owen's 'are you okay?' type phrases, or the frantic calls for Cliegg and Shmi as Anakin collapsed in his arms.

He vaguely felt himself being lifted out of Owen's arms, and being laid on a soft material of some sort. He was dragging in as much air as he could, which wasn't much at all. An eternity later, someone put something on his face, which made his lungs expand fully as air spread itself throughout his system again. He passed out, finally able to breathe.

-

Anakin regained consciousness to a horrible _sharp_ pain in his neck, and a voice telling him to wake up. He felt something on his face, and groggily put his hand up to swat it away. Before his hand could reach his face, however, it was pushed down to the bed and held there.

"Uh-uh. That's there for a reason, kiddo. Take it away and you'll be as ditzy as a Duuzak in no time."

Anakin slowly opened his eyes to see a fuzzy being above him. There were a few spots of skin that Anakin could make out through the haze of colours above him, but most of the man's face was covered with… orange, no, ginger stuff. On top of his head, as well as what looked to be his upper lip and lower face area. Blue/grey eyes stared back at him. Panic began to cloud Anakin's vision even further. The Doctor had the exact same hair and eye colour.

Hazily, Anakin was able to communicate to himself that he was in danger. The pain in his neck was being caused by the man standing over him. He tried to wiggle away, but the pain followed him. He groaned in agony, and, using any strength he could muster, grabbed the source of the pain and twisted it. This happened to be the man's arm.

When he heard a cry of pain, and the agony in his neck ceased, Anakin jumped up and pushed the man as hard as he could. The man flew backwards into a … _dresser?_ There hadn't been a dresser in The Doctor's lair, so how… Suddenly, Anakin saw three figures to his right. They matched the look of Cliegg, Shmi and Owen.

They were moving towards him, Shmi hanging back. With a start of realisation, Anakin picked up the closest thing to him – his alarm clock - and ditched the clock at the closest figure. Owen. Owen barely stopped moving and continued forward, however a bit more slowly. Glancing around frantically, Anakin looked for the next weapon.

On the wall, Anakin saw his escape ticket: a large painting covered with glass hanging on the wall. Running over to it, he grabbed it off the wall and flipped around just in time to slam the glass as hard as he could into Owen's head. Owen finally went down, seemingly out cold, and Anakin made a move to slam the rest of the remaining glass into Cliegg's head.

He was _not_ going to be hurt again.

Glass smashed, and Anakin heard a scream of pain as glass stuck into Cliegg's forearm. He was lucky. If he hadn't moved his hand to cover his face, he would most likely be dead. Cliegg went down on one knee, holding his injured arm.

"Leave me alone!" Anakin was crying now. The family that he thought was protecting him was having him tortured by _that_ man again.

Shmi was in the very corner of the room, tears running down her face. Anakin couldn't understand why _she_ was crying. She tried to hurt him.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his neck again, and he turned around wildly to see the orange-haired man behind him. He held a used syringe in his hand. Anakin realised what the man had done.

"No!" Anakin felt his legs grow weak as the room once again blurred around him. "No! Please! I didn't do anything wrong!" In a moment of delirium, Anakin screamed "No! Dad, Mum, please! No! Please! I didn't do anything wrong! What did I do wrong?!" Anakin's words slurred and his legs gave way. He felt himself be caught by someone before losing consciousness completely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for the support guys! I'm running out of ideas, and desperately need some!**

When Anakin woke up, he was restrained to a bed. He looked around groggily, uselessly tugging at the restraints.

He heard footsteps move towards him, and he struggled even more.

"Calm down… calm down…" It was The Doctor again. He tugged at Anakin's restraints, making sure they were tight, and pulled a chair over beside Anakin. Anakin fought even harder, frantically trying to pull his limbs out to freedom.

Anakin froze in terror when the doctor placed a hand on his forehead.

"No fever…" The Doctor muttered to himself as he wrote down the information on a form attached to a clipboard.

Anakin realised something was off about him. Normally, there was no pretence with The Doctor. He just got right on with his task: torture. Anakin thought about this, and remembered the earlier… incident. He decided that in order to solve this complex riddle, he would need to ask.

"Where… am I?" He whispered hoarsely. The Doctor… or _whoever_ he was looked up in surprise, but answered simply.

" South-Side Coruscant Youth Mental Health Centre."

Anakin was dumbfounded. This wasn't at all how his visits to The Doctor went.

"What… how… why…" The Doctor leaned forward again.

"Do you know who I am, Anakin?" The Doctor's brow was furrowed, his face riddled with concern.

Close up, Anakin realised that this man looked nothing _like_ The Doctor. There were no scars, no evil glare. He mutely shook his head.

"Why did you hurt me then?" Anakin looked away, studying a crack in the wall closely.

"Because I… I thought you were going to hurt me," He whispered.

"Why?" The man leaned forward, interested.

Anakin sighed, and shook his head.

"I… He… There…" he sighed. "Never mind."

The man leaned back, contemplating whether or not to try and push him.

" How about something simple then? Tell me your full name." Anakin looked at him, confused. Why didn't the man know the name of his patient?

"Why don't you know my name?" Anakin asked him.

"I know your name. I just want to hear you say it." Anakin gave him a wary look. "Just humour me. I'll tell you my name afterwards and we'll go from there."

Anakin sighed.

"Anakin James Skywalker."

"It's nice to meet you, Anakin. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm 28, and I am a doctor here."

Anakin frowned slightly.

"If you work here, then why were you at the Lars'?" Obi-Wan smiled and spoke,

"My parents are close with Cliegg and Shmi. I grew up around them, and Owen and I used to chat about some things. They called me after you passed out in their hallway, saying you were having some sort of panic attack, and explained some other signs of mental distress. I came over as soon as I could. I had just called the Youth Mental Health Hospital for an ambulance when you woke up. Then all hell broke loose. After I sedated you, you were transported here, while another two ambulances from the general hospital were called for Owen and Cliegg."

Anakin felt a wave of guilt flood over him. Obi-Wan noticed this, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. They're not hurt bad. Owen just has a minor concussion, and Cliegg just needed a few stitches."

Anakin quietly hissed to himself and pulled his sore shoulder away from Obi-Wan's touch.

Anakin looked away from Obi-Wan and at the ceiling, the full realisation of what he had done sinking in. He started to tremble as tears began rolling down his face.

"I… I thought they were trying to hurt me." He whispered around sobs.

Obi-Wan placed an arm on Anakin's shoulder (his good shoulder this time, thank heavens).

"I know. They know that too. I'm afraid that your outburst was necessary. Otherwise, we never would have known about this problem. The next step is to help you overcome whatever it is that has been troubling you."

Anakin's face changed from an open-but-wary look, to completely closed off.

"What problem?" Obi-Wan noticed that even Anakin's voice changed when he said it. It became deeper… and tight. He leaned forward slowly, reaching a hand towards Anakin.

Anakin began to struggle, still watching him closely, and tensed tightly as his hand got closer and closer to his body.

"Relax, I'm removing the restraints." He began to unbuckle the first one, then stopped as he thought better of it. "If I remove these, do you promise not to run or hit me?" Anakin glanced at him sullenly for a long moment before shaking his head mutely and shakily, as if he was scared Obi-Wan was going to hurt him if he said the wrong thing.

Obi-Wan laughed heartily and finished unbuckling the rest of the restraints.

"I like your honesty. Come with me." He took down the rail that was keeping Anakin from getting out of the bed, and offered his hand to Anakin.

Anakin stared at the hand and back at Obi-Wan for a long moment, not sure what he wanted. Obi-Wan patiently explained.

"I'm offering my hand to help you get up. I'm taking you to the general hospital on the other side so you can see the Lars'."

Anakin's face became a ghostly white, and he madly shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Come on, you'll need to face them sometime. Besides, pretty soon you'll be going home with them, so it'll be a little awkward if you haven't seen each other."

Anakin pulled his knees up to his chest on the bed and shook his head even harder. Obi-Wan, to Anakin's surprise and relief, did not get angry and yell and throw things, but instead smiled.

"Okay, we'll go see them another time." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Anakin with a strong feeling of isolation. He drew his knees even tighter into his chest, thinking about what he had done to the Lars', and sobbed until he fell asleep.

-

The first thing Anakin saw when he woke up was Owen's face. He was shaking his sore shoulder roughly, trying to wake him up. He felt something crack in his shoulder, and he screamed in agony, doubling over, holding his shoulder tightly.

He heard Shmi tell Owen to back off, and to get Obi-Wan. Hot tears streamed down Anakin's face, as the searing agony in his shoulder continued. He heard Obi-Wan rush in, shouting "what's wrong?", and felt gentle but firm hands take his hand off his shoulder. Anakin cried out, and tried to push the hands away without moving his shoulder.

"Anakin… Anakin… It's alright, Obi-Wan's trying to help you." That was Shmi's voice; soft, calm, reassuring. He decided that he had caused the family enough trouble, and let the hands return to his body.

Eyes shut tightly, Anakin bit his tongue each time he felt pain as they prepped him for an X-Ray. Before long, his tongue started bleeding badly. Blood was running out of his mouth and onto the pillow. Still, he continued to bite down. He had to stop crying. He was being a baby. That's what Dad always called him. A baby. Nothing but a useless baby.

An hour later, Anakin was back in his room, his arm in a sling, holding a roll of cotton to his tongue, and waiting for Obi-Wan to come back in with the X-Ray results.

He had already apologised profusely to Owen and Cliegg and Shmi, and they had all forgiven him.

"We didn't really ask you how you felt about all of the changes, so it would have been a little bit overwhelming." Shmi had told him, with a small smile.

Obi-Wan walked into the room, holding the X-Ray's. As he put them onto the light bars, Shmi asked him for the news.

"It's not good, I'll tell you that." Obi-Wan backed away from in front of the X-Rays, and let them all look at the shoulder. It would take a child to see that this was definitely not the way a shoulder should look.

"You must have had a displaced broken shoulder a few years ago which was left untreated. As you can see, the bones moved in downwards and have set _back_ in place in completely the wrong order, leaving you with extreme pain and limited movement."

Anakin gazed at the X-Ray in shock. He hadn't thought it was _that_ bad.

"It gets worse," Obi-Wan continued. "You know those panic attacks you were having? They were partly panic, and partly this bone here," he pointed to the small bone set lower than all the rest. "constricting one of the blood vessels to the heart, and then releasing it, causing your heart and breathing to go hay-wire at the slightest problem."

The room was silent for a bit, before Shmi spoke up.

"What can be done about it?"

Obi-Wan looked up.

"There's good and bad news. The good news is that there is a major surgery that could be done to re-position the bones, freeing you of pain, and giving you a normal shoulder…"

Obi-Wan hesitated.

"Go on." Shmi urged. "What's the bad news?"

Obi-Wan sighed.

"The bad news is that even after intense physical therapy, you may never have more than 40% use in your right shoulder and arm."


End file.
